The research lab pulsed with activity, flickering light casting sharp edges against the wood-paneled walls. Screens hummed with streams of data, holographic projections layering over each other in intricate simulations. The warm grain of the room contrasted with the cold glow of alien schematics—the K'tharr fleet dissected in digital precision.
Emma stood at the central console, sleeves rolled up past her elbows, her coat slung carelessly over a chair. She traced the contours of a K'tharr ship schematic, eyes narrowing at the angular hulls and energy conduits pulsing like veins. Their technology shimmered with an eerie intelligence, their shields layered and adaptive in ways that dwarfed human engineering.
Beside her, Maya adjusted her glasses, fingers deftly manipulating a secondary hologram. "Their energy shielding is exceptional—almost alive," she said, tapping the interface. "And their weapons?" She gestured toward a beam projector model. "Focused energy that could punch through our hull like tissue."
Emma tapped her chin, thoughts threading through the alien data salvaged from the dead world. "Formidable," she murmured. "But the civilization that fell to them documented something—a weakness." She pulled up another file, layers of chemical analyses flickering into view, a contrast to the sheer complexity of K'tharr design.
Maya leaned in. "What kind of weakness?"
Emma hesitated before speaking, the answer almost too simple. "Water."
Maya blinked, her skepticism sharp. "Water? You're serious?"
Emma nodded, watching the simulation run—graphs, molecular breakdowns, patterns repeating across the fallen civilization's reports. "It sounds impossible, too basic. But the data is consistent. It's not a fluke." She expanded the analysis, highlighting water molecules colliding with K'tharr systems. "Maybe their biology is hypersensitive—some ionic reaction breaking down their crystalline structure. Or it's their technology. Maybe their shields short out under exposure, maybe their conduits corrode. We have to explore this."
Maya frowned but leaned closer, hands moving instinctively to begin her own tests. "If it's biological, water could act as a catalyst, triggering a collapse in their internal framework," she murmured. "If it's technological…" She trailed off, adjusting parameters. A new projection flared—K'tharr shields flickering under a water assault. Maya exhaled, pragmatism giving way to evidence. "It's plausible."
Emma's thoughts drifted to her father—his backyard experiments, his warm voice saying, *Life adapts, Em. Sometimes the simplest things hold the most power.* The memory steadied her.
Liam entered, his hesitation evident in the way his fingers tapped absently against his arm. "Water against that?" He gestured toward the alien schematics, doubt threading his voice. "Feels like throwing rocks at a tank."
Emma turned to him, meeting his gaze with measured certainty. "Sometimes rocks are enough, Liam—if you hit the right spot."
He shifted, unconvinced but listening, staying to assist as Maya continued her work.
The lab hummed with renewed focus, vials of WoodDust glowing faintly nearby, their energy a quiet pulse against the unknown. Emma watched the simulation loop—water molecules clashing with K'tharr shields, their glow faltering, dimming.
"It's a start," Maya said, a rare smile tugging at her lips, skepticism cracking beneath the weight of proof.
Emma exhaled, thoughts settling. "A start's enough—for now."
Hours bled into the night cycle, shifts rotating, but Emma remained, hands stained with grease from containment prototypes.
Chloe ducked in, eyes flicking over the progress. "Water, huh?" she mused, a grin flickering. "You're full of surprises, Doc."
Emma chuckled, weary but resolute. "Keeps us on our toes."
The lab's hum grew steadier. A seed of a plan had taken root.
Water—Earth's simplest gift—might be the key to survival against a cosmic force.